


Inquiry

by ChestnutNebulae



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/strange fake
Genre: It's just Berserker answering questions related to Flat, Mild Gore, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChestnutNebulae/pseuds/ChestnutNebulae
Summary: The man leans forwards on his chair, his arm against the table and his eyes curious. “So, have you ever wanted to hurt him?” His voice doesn’t give off an alarming tone, but the question digs deep into their bones and leaves their limbs tense.Or, Jack answers some questions related to their Master.
Relationships: False Berserker | Jack the Ripper & Flat Escardos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Inquiry

The man leans forwards on his chair, his arm against the table and his eyes curious. “So, have you ever wanted to hurt him?” His voice doesn’t give off an alarming tone, but the question digs deep into their bones and leaves their limbs tense.

Their fingers curl when they think about it, they’re sure that if they were less in control of their body they would have started to fidget. Have they ever wanted to hurt him? They aren’t sure of the answer, because they remember the night when the passing urge to put a knife into his throat, cut it open and let him bleed left them sleepless.

But that had been an urge, an idea that left as quickly as it came, chased by cries of ‘No, of course not!’, despite that, they'd kept themselves awake to make sure they didn't do anything they would regret.

A want was different from an urge, they wanted to know who they, they as in a serial killer, they as in the one who terrorized London, was. They wanted to win the Holy Grail war and have their wish granted, but above that they wanted to help their Master survive.

Their urges were something much darker, something deadly and disgusting. To cut open, to dig around and to take out. To take wombs, to take life. They had control over the urges, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there; the urge to see their Master bleeding, the urges to cut open innocents they passed by on the street.

They were there and they doubted they would ever leave, so they looked up at the man in front of them and sighed.

Jack’s limbs were still stiff when they answered. Their body bigger and more human than what they’re used to, but it comforts them, though it brings a much stronger urge _(need, something in them says)_ to dissect. There’s a bed sheet hanging off their shoulders, too, though they’re not sure why they leave it on when their Master isn’t there.

“Wanted? No, I have not.” Their voice is quiet and childish, it’s not a lie and they doubt it ever will be. The man’s lips curve upwards, though they can't call it a smile. Is it relief? They aren’t sure, and they doubt they will ever get an answer. He looks to them again, and opens his mouth once more.

“How far would you go to protect him?” It’s an odd question and they aren’t sure how to answer it. How far is too far, how far isn’t far enough? The truth of it all is that they don’t know either, they haven’t been pushed far enough _(and they hope they never will be)_ to consider it.

Their form shifts as they think, the bedsheet falls from their shoulders and onto the ground, they’re a nobleman now, or at least something close to it. 

Jack’s body shifts as well, small actions like scratching the beard that covers their chin, folding one leg over the other and placing their arm on the table let their thoughts slip through to the world.

Would their Master be mad if they killed someone? In some ways yes and in some ways no. He would react like _he_ would, and he, Flat Escardos, the man who summoned them, isn’t like most human beings just like they aren’t like most Berserkers.

He’s something foreign to the world, something disconnected from the world, so murder isn’t the same to him as it is to the general populace, nor is it the same to him as it is to mages.

That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t upset him; he would certainly be saddened that they might have caused problems for his professor. That they would have broken the moral code he had adopted from his professor.

That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t go that far for him, though. They would, they know that, but the words can’t form on their tongue.

‘I would die to protect him’ and ‘I would kill to protect him’ are both equally true and equally false to Jack. They don’t cover it properly, they say too much and too little. But they see the man lean back in his seat, hands behind his head, he’s relaxed, but they feel as if it’s a covert threat, so they decide they’ll have to answer fast.

“I would do anything.” Ah, that’s too intense. Much too intense, but it seems to have caught the man’s interest, as he smirks. It’s a knowing grin, and they feel open, as if he’s taking an unwelcome peek into their thoughts.

Their form shifts again, but the discomfort lingers in their veins. They’re smaller and less threatening, yet there’s a degree of danger to the way their body rests against the chair they’re sitting in.

“Oh? That’s interesting. Go on, tell me, do you love him?” One of Jack’s hands tightens against the wood of the armrests to keep them from grimacing.

Their face is neutral, though their eyes are sharp, and if looks could kill, the person in front of them would be dead already.

What does love mean by this man’s standards? Is it the love of a parent for their child, that of siblings, of friends or of lovers?

“What do you mean?” Their voice comes out far less aggressive than they thought it would, and they make a conscious effort to stop their feet from tapping against the floor. “I mean, do you love him? Romantically?” The man’s voice echoes throughout the room and throughout Jack’s skull.

It’s almost painful. Both the way his voice cuts through the air, and the way Jack can hear their own breath hitching. The man smirks, and they aren’t sure whether to hope that their urge to kill him is obvious or not.

It’s not like it’s a new question to them, not at all. They’ve pondered over it a few times, and they’ve never come to a proper conclusion.

Maybe it’s because they aren’t sure what love is supposed to be, what it is to ordinary humans, something which neither they nor Flat are.

What is romantic love to Flat? What is it to themselves?

There’s a mutual understanding between them, despite how different they are. _Because_ of how different they are. They don’t know what Flat is, and Flat doesn’t know who they are, _(not in the way they want to know themselves, because he knows who they are now,)_ or who they might have been. 

Their body stills and they remember to breathe again, though their mind is still racing. Do they care for their Master? Yes, of course. But romantic love is something foreign.

They feel as if their relationship goes deeper than that, as well, it goes deeper than friendship as well, it’s the question of identity hanging between them.

Their Master has had an impact on them, though, they look to the present instead of the past, now. It doesn’t stop the questions of their identity or the urges that follow with every move they make, but when they’re with him, they feel at ease.

For them, ‘at ease’ is the feeling of a fitting body, it’s the feeling of blood on their hands and somehow it’s the feeling that comes to them when they think of Flat.

Does that mean they love him? They aren’t sure, and they’re even less sure they deserve something like that. They’re a serial killer, a cold-blooded murderer enshrined in madness and remembered for terrifying people more than a hundred years after their killings took place.

He’s not like them in that way, they doubt he knows exactly what the fear inside of them says. The fear of snapping, of their Saint Graph morphing into something much more dangerous to their Master.

Would they kill Flat if they ever went berserk? They don’t know, and they don’t want to find out, but it’s something that might happen, something they’re all too aware of.

Does that fear mean they don’t love him? No, they don’t think so. No matter what others would call it, they did care for Flat.

For their Master. The answer to the man’s question still seemed far out of reach for Jack, and as he stared at them, they felt like they could melt into a puddle on the floor. 

“I..” Their voice falters, tongue slipping up on the words, “..I suppose so.” They aren’t sure if it’s a realization or a confession, but the man in front of them chuckles, and a begrudging smile finds its way to their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was fun! I mostly did it as a character study kinda thing for Jack??? But team Falserker makes me soft it's neat. Jack is frightened of Flat sometimes but still does their absolute best to understand him and they care for him a lot its nice??
> 
> Come yell with me about Fate/Strange Fake @no-apple-314 on tumblr! 
> 
> please read strange fake btw its good
> 
> Comments are appreciated aaa! ;w;


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